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I
woke up early this morning stumbled out of bed and over to look
 out
the bedroom window. Outside on an old oak tree nailed to its trunk sits
an old rusty thermometer. I could see the gauge was reading thirty two
degrees. There was little if any noticeable wind and the only sounds
disturbing this other wise silent and peaceful morning was that of my
wife snoring behind me. I decided to look over at the alarm clock which
read only 4:15 am, I didn’t have to be at work today and the old lady
didn’t have some type of chores for me to do, so it looked like a good
day to drive over to the river and fish a few deep pools on my favorite
steelhead stream.
I always
have my gear packed and stowed in the truck, so it was only a matter of
sneaking around the house to quietly make a pot of coffee, grab a
granola bar and get dressed without being detected. I decided to leave a
note where I was going and to purposely forget my cell phone on the
kitchen table. I felt like I was a young kid again waking up hours
earlier than everyone else to open Christmas presents. As I stepped out
the door, the chilling morning air reminded me of our Cabin and the
opening day of deer season in the Allegany Forest of Pennsylvania, and
as you can tell I was pretty excited to be sneaking around and playing
hooky from everything and everyone today.
As I drove
down the old road into the valley where my favorite steelhead
haunt was, the moon light and the bright reflection off the snow
revealed several deer and Canadian Geese feeding in a cut corn field,
and behind them was the winding river that was still waiting below. What
seemed like an eternal drive finally came to an end at the bottom of the
gorge. I pulled off and parked next to the old and tattered wooden
covered bridge, the same bridge my wife and I carved our names in the
wall as love birds in High school. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I
stretched the sleepiness from my limbs. Staring through the dark and
Looking around in every direction there was no one; I was the only one
here? I thought to myself what a beautiful morning, and it’s a shame
that I have all this river in front of me and I don’t have to share it
with no one else; at least for that minute. I smiled and laughed to
myself for the greedy thought I had just had, but then again it’s not my
fault no one else was here.
Seeing that
no one was around I decided to take my time this morning. So I put my
waders on and finished my cold half cup of coffee and granola. I decided
to listen to a few minutes of News talk radio while I put a thin coat of
Vaseline on my fly rod guides and at the end of my fly line to help
deter them from freezing over on the river. After a quick check of my
chest pack and fly boxes I was ready. I decided to take the easy path
through the woods to reach my favorite stretch of water. The sun was not
quite up yet, but you could see it was trying to burst its way through
the thick grayish black cloud cover. While walking I looked down at the
river, which had the perfect steady flow and was that magical emerald
green color steelhead angler’s crave.
As I came
off the path and reach my pool I could only stand and stare in awe for a
moment, everything was absolutely perfect. The river bends into a forty
foot high shale wall creating a pool at its base the size of a cement
truck. The shale wall is littered with 25 foot long Ice cycles and
evergreen trees growing out of the wall, and over the river bending
upwards towards the heavens. Behind me is nothing but the darkened
forest and its secrets. I have found the solitude I long searched for,
and in doing so I realize and cherish the eerie feeling that I am truly
alone.
I decided
to sit along the bank until Dawn. Besides no sense in crowding the pool
and screwing up the rotation? Every dedicated steelheader knows that
rivers in darkness are haunted by the ghosts of anglers past. They
deserved their time and their solitude, and if you are quite and patient
long enough you can see them casting, smiling, and walking away from the
river by their reflection off the water at first light. I really never
wanted to push my luck by fishing in darkness and I didn’t want to be
the man that cut into their fishing time. To some this may sound crazy,
but most are always in too much of a hurry to see things the way I do.
At dawn I
gently waded out into the river, unhooked my leader and started
stripping spey line from my reel anticipating and hoping for a perfect
first cast. I cast up stream and across the pool, mend the line and
visualize what my electric blue a purple marabou spey is doing and where
it will be during the swing. As usual winter steelhead fishing is a
patience game and a time of personnel reflection and fly fishing
perfection on every cast. I knew I had the patience and the time, so I
continued casting and worked the pool on my own three steps down stream
and cast rotation, starting at the top and finishing at the tail out of
the pool.
During the
cold of the winter it was not uncommon to pull a skunk four out of five
days on the river. My pool had always been the rabbit in the hat for me
though and I knew that least one of my casts would inspire a take; I
just didn’t have a clue when it would be. The snow has now started to
fall and become heavier by the minute. One moment everything was visible
through the falling snow, but now it was falling so hard and fast I felt
like I was being punished and sent to a corner to stare at a white wall
until I was told otherwise.
The tail
out of the pool was approaching as I took my last three steps down
stream. Nothing was going to stop me from finishing my rotation. I must
have cast 100 times in the past couple of hours, and as I squinted to
follow my line everything came together. My line stopped and pulled
taunt toward the depths. I set the hook firmly and could feel the slow
heavy but powerful head shake just before the fish darted to the head of
the pool. During the next few minutes of utopia Ice shattered from the
rods guides and water misted off my line as the steelhead made powerful
runs back and forth through the pool.
I still
have not been able to see this beautiful specimen, but I knew she was
big, do to the fact I had a hard time gaining any line on her and the
bull dog mentality to stay and feel secure in the pools depths. The hard
snow fall was starting to create slush on the water and I new that this
would probably be the end of my day unless the weather changes in the
next hour. I could finally tell she was starting to tire a bit now, and
I was slowly starting to gain ground on her.
She was
viciously trying to dislodge the fly with continued head shakes as she
eased closer to shallow water. Everything around me became silent; I
could not hear the sparrows chirping or the waters current as she came
into view for the first time. The river had granted me permission to see
one of its winter treasures. The she was infact a male as I skated him
to the shallow water at my feet. He was a gorgeous mint silver buck with
broad shoulders, healthy layers of thick fat, and a massive jaw only a
steelheader could love. As I removed the spey from his mouth I could not
help but stare into his eye and wonder what he was thinking at that same
moment. I knew he was the king of the pool this winter, and as I held
him in the hand numbing water he swam away as if nothing had ever
happened; as if he allowed me to grace myself in his presence.
After
releasing and watching him disappear back into the pool, I stumbled over
to the shore reeled in my line and sat down on a rock over looking the
river. I could hear everything again, the waters current, sparrows and
crows, and the echoes of whining frozen trees longing for spring. I felt
refreshed and energized by the freezing air and the snow falling on the
back of my neck. I love steelhead fishing on a winter’s day and the
memories it inspires. I’ve gone and spoiled myself once again! I realize
now its time to leave my chilly sanctuary and spent time with the most
important thing in life, my family.
As I walk
back to my truck the snow has stopped and the storm had passed on, its
like god appreciated sharing in my experience and wanted to make sure I
had a safe drive home. During the long drive home I am reassured in
knowing that the next steelheader that walks that very path will have an
opportunity to experience things the same way I did, and to leave
refreshed and remember the things we cherish the most and take for
granted every single day. |
